


TFP - Terminus, Vol. I: Ghosts

by Lung_Tien_Lien_92



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Character Death, Character Study, Child Death, Dark, Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Harm to Children, Hatred, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Manipulation, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, POV Male Character, POV Original Character, POV Third Person, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Pining, Prophetic Dreams, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Religion, Self-Hatred, Torture, Trauma, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lung_Tien_Lien_92/pseuds/Lung_Tien_Lien_92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Season 3: The last Prime rises as the storm on Earth builds. Now, remnants from forgotten chapters of the Great War prove the past is never really gone - because its ghosts can consume your sanity. (rated 'M' for disturbing and graphic content)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Her Future Looks Bleak

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own TFP.
> 
> *Glossary
> 
> \- "Groon": the Cybertronian equivalent of about six hours
> 
> \- "Servo": the "hands" of a Cybertronian
> 
> \- "Nano-klik": the Cybertronian equivalent of about a second
> 
> \- "Rotator Cups": the "shoulders" of a Cybertronian
> 
> \- “Denta”: a Cybertronian’s “teeth”
> 
> Begin Section I

_**TFP** _ **: Terminus, Vol. I - Ghosts**

**Prologue**

**3/24/2015 EDIT: By popular demand, including my own, here is the recently revised prologue. I don't own** _**TFP** _ **.**

***Glossary**

**\- "Groon": the Cybertronian equivalent of about six hours**

**\- "Servo": the "hands" of a Cybertronian**

**\- "Nano-klik": the Cybertronian equivalent of about a second**

**\- "Rotator Cups": the "shoulders" of a Cybertronian**

**\- "Denta": a Cybertronian's "teeth"**

**\- "Pedes": a Cybertronian's "feet"**

_\- Italics_  throughout this fic indicate emphasis, thoughts, or flashbacks

**Begin Section I**

0000

_How many groons have I been walking? Ugh, if I can find a working transport shuttle and never have to see this Primus-forsaken planet ever again, it will be all too soon._

Swearing bitterly under her breath, Serenade stumble-slid through the mud and leaf-litter beneath her pedes. The filthy mess wormed its way beneath her armor and stuck between some of her outer wires, causing her to itch more with each step.

_Oh, how I yearn to stumble upon shelter actually befitting Cybertronians, one with a working sterilization chamber and clean berth - a_ roof  _at least, for Primus'-sake - and set camp for the remainder of the night. But, no. In this thick, gloomy, dank, and thoroughly abandoned mountain forest, not a hint of what I'd even_ barely _call "civilization" is to be found._

Besides, Serenade couldn't stop. Not now. Not when a tenaciously hunting Predacon might or might not be on her trail, alert for any sign of her tracks - or worse, her outline under the forest branches. She couldn't even transform and try to put some decent distance between herself and the winged demon. She had to walk, step by step, suppress her energy signature as much as possible, and hope to whoever felt kind enough to listen that the rain subdued the scent of her energon, the electricity in the atmosphere was enough to impede the Predacon's sensors, and that no pairs of bright yellow optics could single her out from the surrounding trees.

Above, a plume of lightning tore across the black sky and ripped blinding cracks through the clouds. Booming thunder that shook the very ground followed not a second later, and Serenade found herself nearly deafened. Stopping for just a moment, she waited for the great roar to trickle into a rumble before pressing onward. However, her pedes still could not find safe purchase and she continued to slip in the treacherous mud. One particular misstep turned into a jarring tumble into a tree, and she cursed again. Forcing herself to stand, she took her anger out on the silent, hapless evergreen in question by slashing four deep gouges into its bark with her talons.

_If anyone asked, I probably wouldn't be able to_ begin  _describing how awful it's been on planet Earth_.  _Even though the root of my problems didn't begin here, things certainly became much, much worse since my near-crash-landing and subsequent capture by those thrice-damned Decepticons._

At first, Serenade thought she could handle these misfortunes like she handled all others in the past: by fighting toe-to-toe against them until they submitted to her will or simply left her alone. This time, though, she had been wrong -  _horrendously_  wrong - and now wandered outside in the rain, alone except for the consequences of her pretentious and foolish line of thinking to keep her company.

As if some greater power sensed the thought, a sharp pain in her torso forced Serenade to her knee-joints. Reflexively, she grabbed at the armor plating there with rain-drenched servos, clutching desperately at the slowly shifting metal until the aching ebbed enough to let her stand.

_Frag it all! I knew I was close, but_ now _? Of all the times it could've fragging picked...!_

But considering the ever-looming Predacon threat, the storm raging above, and the circumstances that left the femme stranded in this unwelcoming patch of forest, why should fate choose to be kind  _now_?

" _Anything that can go wrong, will." What did the humans call it? "Murphy's Law?" Tch. It's good to know this accursed slab of a planet has a Pit-spawned_ name  _for consistent stretches of bad luck._

Serenade spat and then smirked in selfish delight when a large bird started from some nearby leaves. Of course, another jab of pain cut her smirk short, this one stronger than the last, hit her in her midriff. This time, she twisted her body so a wide tree caught her in mid-fall, the thing providing a sturdy brace that she dug her claws into until she could keep moving.

_Frag this forest, this sorry bit of rock, and everything else! I can barely move, barely keep my energy suppressed, and I feel absolutely pathetic - and I bet I look even worse!_

And while lightly dragging her claws across her abdominal plating, Serenade sent an extra curse to the as-of-yet unborn Sparkling whose progressing birth kept her grounded and caused all these pains.

_What irony that our birthing process would be so similar to that of those ridiculous humans. Are you having a good fragging laugh up there, Primus?_

She'd never liked Sparklings, never saw the charm so many others of her kind insisted the little creatures had, not even when the Well of All Sparks went dark and stopped producing Cybertronians. In the Serenade's optics, Sparklings were unnecessary burdens, starting out as little more than animals that became intelligent and independent  _far_ too slowly and also required  _far_  too much effort to raise. She'd never wanted one of her own and, instead, desired to keep to her carefree and (so-to-speak) freewheeling lifestyle - a lifestyle thrown into disarray thanks to the feuding of the Autobots and the Decepticons.

_To the Pit with all of them - Autobots and Decepticons both! They can rust into nothing for how much I care, and that includes this Sparkling's fragging sire! I hope I personally get to see him sent to the scrap-heap!_

Serenade felt a troublesome emotion twinge in her spark, but she ignored it with a stalwart resolution.

_I re-learned all too late that no emotions other than hatred and distrust serve me well._

The hate Serenade felt gave her something to anchor her mind to, something to fuel her determination, while the mistrust gave her a healthy level of wariness and (for the most part) kept her out of harm's way.

_If I set my bars of expectations low, I'll never disappointed or surprised, at least not for long._   _Faith, camaraderie... Those are pieces of scrap reserved for blind idealists - or those few and far between who have the extraordinary luck of being within Primus' full favor, like that self-righteous, idiotic, wheedling Terminus-fragging-Prime._

_I used to know what Primus' favor was like, back before the war, back before they took my sister, my_  home _._

Thinking on her sister, Serenade's distaste for the tiny being she carried grew. She suddenly wished to get rid of it, to plunge her talons deep into her innermost circuitry and rip the accursed, bastardized little hindrance from its haven and...!

_Defenseless. Innocent._ The words popped, unbidden, her processor, and she found herself unable - perhaps even  _unwilling_  - to act on her violent urges. A feeling akin to shame flew through her, and immediately afterwards she experienced a familiar feeling of... _"Void"_ was the only term Serenade could find to describe the sense of potentially overwhelming emptiness ghosting about her spark.

_Not again. Never again._

Besides, she'd be no better than the Sparkling's sire if she did something like that. For all she despised him...

Then, Serenade's audio-receptors picked up a sound made nigh imperceptible by the roaring of the storm: the sound of a pair of large wings beating against the wind. Spooked, she froze in her tracks, but, fortunately, her processor remained on high alert. On borderline instinct, she shrank beneath the leafy boughs of two adjacent trees and made her body as small as she could. She came to rest at the bottom of one trunk, her back pressed against its wet, rough bark. Claustrophobia almost overcame her as her wings were pinned between her back and the tree, but both her fright and the strong wish to remain hidden prevented her from moving or making any noise. Instead, she simply listened.

The wing-beats seemed to come from a fairly considerable height above the forest canopy, and for a few tense nano-kliks, they remained at that distance. Paying careful attention to their pattern within the storm's cacophony, Serenade received an impression of  _circling_.

Her denta ached, she clenched them so hard.

_Has the Predacon spotted me for sure? Is the circling simply its way of preparing to stoop? Or is it scouting the area, knowing the trail but unsure about my actual location? Come on, make your move already…_

It was the most inopportune moment for another birthing pang to come on, one that not only pierced but also squeezed and burned. It took all of Serenade's mettle to bite back a yelp of shock and anguish and keep her energy signature suppressed, the cables in her neck and rotator cups close to locking up with the strain.

_The Sparkling's coming without a doubt, and every nano-klik I spend away from shelter is a nano-klik closer to giving birth in the elements. Then, while I'm left weak and helpless and with a squalling newborn, it would probably be just a matter of time before we're both caught and taken back to Darkmount._

But Serenade dared not move, not while she could still hear the Predacon's beating wings.

In the next instant, the beating came to a halt, and then she heard leaves tremble and twigs creak as a large shape swooped over them. The Predacon made a pass from the part of the forest on the femme's left, was directly overhead for an instant - its reptilian shape outlined against the canopy by another flash of lightning - and then re-ascended somewhere to the right. Up in the sky, it appeared to continue its circling.

Serenade couldn't resist letting out a tiny sigh of relief. So her pursuer  _didn't_ know exactly where she was; that, at least, brought a bit of comfort.

_Still, I don't think my trouble's over yet._

The Predacon's second pass, this time from the right, quickly confirmed Serenade's belief.

When the Predacon made its third pass from the direction she faced, a terrifying thought struck her.

_It's trying to flush me out. It can't find me by normal means, so it's trying to frighten me into revealing myself. Is it too much to ask that it, somehow,_ doesn't _intent to use its fire cannon for added effect? Or that it's too windy and raining too hard for the weapon to be of much use? Either would do, really._

Nevertheless, Serenade, ignoring the sense of entrapment in her wings, all but made herself one with the tree behind her and curled into the tightest ball of armor and wiring she could manage.

And then came the fourth birthing pain, accompanied by the excruciating sensation of her abdominal plating being forced apart in a completely abnormal way. Serenade kicked out in reflex, and this motion pulled her body from its position against the tree and she went down into the mud. Every profanity she knew slipped out between her gritted denta while she tried to rise, but suddenly all the strength fled from her limbs. They each gave out beneath her at the same instant, and she crumpled onto her side. Within nano-kliks, her contracting midriff forced her to roll onto her back, where she stayed.

The femme's time was upon her - she could feel the small protoform shifting into position. In a few cycles, Earth's first Sparkling would be born.

Amidst the agony, anger, and fear, Serenade barely registered the warm wetness of lubricant seeping from her optics down her face-plate. She burrowed her talons deep into the mud and leaves.

_I hate this planet!_

She gathered up a glop of slime into her right servo, and then slammed it all back into the ground. Another bolt of lightning streaked from cloud to cloud.

_I hate the Decepticons!_

The resulting thunder sounded eerily similar to a Predacon's roar.

_I hate the Autobots! I hate the humans! I hate the Predacons! I hate this storm! I hate my sister, and Megatron, and Optimus fragging Prime, and Terminus-fragging-Prime most of all! I hate...! I hate...!_

As Serenade gave birth to her unwanted Sparkling and waited for the Predacon to pluck her from the forest, she felt completely and utterly alone.


	2. SI, Ch1 - The Prisoner of Darkmount

_**TFP** _ **: Terminus, Vol. I - Ghosts**

**-Chapter 1: The Prisoner of Darkmount-**

**(Disclaimer: I don't own** _**TFP** _ **. This chapter was conceptualized and written before the airing of** _**Rebellion** _ **. Organizational Notes: '0000' denotes a scene change, while '/' marks a switch in point-of-view.)**

***Glossary**

**\- "Digit": a Cybertronian "finger"**

**\- "Audio-Receptor": a Cybertronian "ear"**

**\- "Helm": a Cybertronian "head"**

**\- "Smelter": a place where scrap metal and sometimes Cybertronians are taken to be melted down**

**\- "Pede": a Cybertronian "foot"**

**\- "Cycle": the Cybertronian equivalent of approximately 1.25 Earth-hours**

0000

_~ Some time before the prologue... ~_

Leaving a snarling and nigh frothing femme in her cell, the two Vehicons guards of Darkmount's containment ward felt more than glad to hear the sound of metal doors shutting behind them.

"That fragging glitch! She nearly bit one of my digits off!" said the first, flexing his injured servo.

"Oh, you think you've got it bad? With all her blasted screeching, my left audio-receptor has stopped working! I'm only getting snippets of static from it now..." the second grumbled, gently fiddling with the broken piece of tech inside his helm.

"Did you not hear me? I nearly lost one of my  _digits_  in there! You'd think she was part Insecticon or Predacon the way she latched onto it - it  _hurt_  like the  _Pit_!" As an afterthought, he mumbled, "She certainly has a face-plate ugly enough to be an Insecticon."

"I heard you just fine, but I would've heard better if one of my _audio-receptors_ wasn't _broken_. By Primus, that femme can reach higher and more ragged pitches than Commander Starscream. I didn't think such a feat was possible."

"I'll say. You think that they'll rip her voice-box out and just interrogate her with the Cortical Psychic Patch?"

"I hope that's the  _least_ they'll do to her, but they'll need to break more than her voice-box to keep her quiet. Shockwave will need to invent some kind of Cortical Psychic Muzzle if he doesn't want her screaming him into the Allspark from inside her processor."

The first Vehicon shuddered. "Now there's a fate worse than death. We only thought Dreadwing and Breakdown got it bad..."

Cuffing his partner over the helm, the second Vehicon said, "If you speak out loud, you'd better keep in mind to be more respectful about certain members of our dead." Then, in a voice so low the other mech could barely hear it, he muttered, "At least  _they_  didn't treat us like we're nothing more than expendable drones."

The first Vehicon nodded in agreement. "You said it, ST-3V3. You said it."

0000

From his position on the highest point of Darkmount, Megatron listened to Soundwave's recording of the two Vehicon guards. When it finished, the lord of the Decepticons merely snorted.

"Ungrateful piles of scrap, aren't they? Oh, well; it doesn't really matter. I'll think of some sort of appropriate punishment for their insubordination later."

Turning, Megatron paced away from his throne, stopping when he reached the center of Darkmount's peak.

"So, Soundwave. It would seem we have, as the humans would say, quite a spitfire on our hands. And she's an Autobot-sympathizing Seeker to boot." The large mech then turned to face his communications' officer. "This situation has the potential to grant us considerable windfall."

Soundwave merely nodded, saying nothing. However, before Megatron could begin speaking again, the sound of approaching jet thrusters reached both his and Soundwave's hearing. From the southeast quadrant of the Decepticons' newly conquered territory, Starscream swooped in, transforming in mid-air and landing with ease on before the two other Decepticons.

"You sent for me, Master?"

Starscream bowed, waiting in silence as the Decepticon Warlord approached.

"Ah, Starscream. Perfect timing. I was just discussing the state of our newest prisoner with Soundwave, and I believe she would be of some interest to you."

Megatron strode past his lieutenant before halting again, directing his attention to a hologram that now floated before them. On the screen, an image in real-time showed a full picture of the green, battered, and scratched femme who now resided in the containment ward. She threw her body wildly against the restraints that held her, shaking her head back and forth while howling like some maddened Earth-beast. Her wings, pinned solidly by a clamp, fluttered in a sign of extreme stress and agitation.

"Quite a piece of work, isn't she? One of the Vehicons sent to interrogate her nearly had part of his servo bitten off, and she ruined an audio-receptor of the other with that Pit-spawned racket she's making. Needless to say, we have not yet drawn much information out of her."

As if in great thought, Megatron put one servo to his chin.

"The Vehicons suggested that Shockwave should handle this with a simple use of the Cortical Psychic Patch, but I'm not so sure we'll need to take that route at the moment. You're a much greater expert on Seeker anatomy and psychology than he is in any case. That's why I sent for you. How about it? Do you think that you could 'convince' her to speak her mind - intelligibly?"

Starscream's optics, filled with a certain amount of surprise, remained glued to the holographic image. He watched each movement the femme Seeker made in her struggles to free herself. In particular, the Air Commander's attention focused on the four long scars that marred and twisted her face-plate.

Megatron noticed his Second-in-Command's interest and allowed himself a small smile.

"Lost in thought, Starscream? Mulling over the best methods to...twist her into talking?"

"Ah - yes, Lord Megatron," Starscream replied, startled from his train of thought. However, his surprise quickly faded into distaste and then malicious glee at the opportunity now presented to him. With a sinister grin, the Air Commander said, "As it happens, I do believe that I can get this one to say a few words."

Megatron nodded in amused approval.

"Very well, Starscream. I look forward to the results. You may make your way down to the containment area when you are ready."

Of course, "when you are ready" truly meant "preferably at this moment", and with another bow, Starscream turned to make his way down to the cell. As he entered Darkmount's lift and began riding down, his thoughts on his new plaything were invariably mixed.

_It's definitely been a while since the two of us last saw each other. From the sound of it, she seems to have the same reckless, stubborn, and downright nasty personality she had before._

Starscream chortled to himself.

_It will be fun trying to break her again. If nothing else, I can add a matching set of scars to the ones she already possesses..._

0000

In the cell, Serenade, pain lancing through her, screamed and thrashed against her restraints with almost senseless abandon. But she did not care how much her wrists, ankles, wings, and voice-box now hurt; she continued her struggles in a desperate attempt to somehow break free.

_If only I really_ had  _taken that fragging Decepticon's digit off. At least I'd have the satisfaction._

She then contorted herself in a half-twisting position, she used the (admittedly painful) leverage to try and pull her servos from their manacles. Unfortunately, the bonds continued to stand firm against her, and fatigue eventually forced her to relinquish that posture.

_To the Pit with those Decepticons! To the Pit with them all! They can't hold me here, and once I'm out, they'll be sorry that they laid their disgusting servos on me!_

Serenade's deepened her already profound grimace, feeling the deep slashes across her face all the while.

_And once I'm done here, I'll go and see if I can't execute some Autobots. Blasted death merchants, all of them!_

Out of the corner of her one good optic, Serenade saw her older sister slowly shake her white helm.

_"That is not the way to handle things,"_ she said, her tone filled with grief.  _"Taking your anger out on the Autobots will not help anyone."_

"Don't try to make  _me_ the enemy here, Blister! They're just as much at fault for destroying our home as the Decepticons, and they need to answer for that!" Serenade imagined Optimus Prime standing before her, and she sent her figment a glare filled with unadulterated hate. "I  _will_ make them answer for that!"

Blister did not reply, and Serenade resumed fighting. Suddenly, the doors to her cell unlocked and swung open for the second time that day, and through them came a tall, slender, and overall lanky Seeker who held an Energon-prod.

Serenade recognized him immediately.  _"Starscream..."_

The word seeped through Serenade's denta and off her glossa like a regurgitated toxin. Beside her, Blister let out a terrified gasp and shrunk back.

Looking down upon the infuriated femme, Starscream merely smirked and said, "It's been a while. Come back for more, Serenade?"

/

Starscream chuckled at Serenade's expression: a twisted, partially mutilated mask of loathing. The dim light of the cell shone dully off of her green armor, but this seemed to highlight each scratch and dent that she bore.

Serenade narrowed her single optic.

"Go leap into a smelter," she growled.

"Hah. How I've missed your delightfully witty comebacks. It's not often we get prisoners who know how to make amusing conversation."

Starscream watched Serenade flex her talons.

"Why don't you release me from these manacles? Then I'll show you just how  _amusing_ I can really be. Just to show my gratitude for the treatment you gave me back on Cybertron, I'll wreak some  _amusement_  straight on your spark."

Despite his prisoner's murderous tone, Starscream did not feel fazed in the slightest. Twirling the Energon-prod in his servos, he replied, "You know, that kind of threat  _would_ be intimidating if you were, well, intimidating. However, a femme as  _defaced_ as you has a long way to go before I would ever feel faint-sparked in your presence."

Serenade made to leap at him from where she kneeled.

"Why you spawn of a - !"

Starscream slammed the prod into her breastplate, and Serenade let out a pained grunt and fell to the floor. With that, Starscream stamped a firm pede down onto Serenade's helm, holding her in place.

_Ah. This feels just like back then._  In an echo to his thoughts, Starscream ground his heel into one of Serenade's scars, and he took immense joy in the half-strangled yelp that she bit back.

"As much as I'd love to continue listening to your honeyed words, there are a few things I need you to tell me. Specifically, I'd like to know any information you might have pertaining to the Autobots."

Starscream let off some of the pressure from his heel, but only enough to let his little toy speak.

_Oh, how I'm going to_ relish  _our time together._

/

Even though the sociopathic Decepticon let up a bit off of her helm, Serenade could still hardly move it, and with her one good optic pressed into the floor, she could not see particularly well either. But she was not going to give her tormenter the gratification of seeing her squirm.

_By Primus, as well as Blister's spark and my own, the very first bot that I rip to pieces will be you, 'Commander.'_

However, Serenade did not voice this thought. In fact, she momentarily contemplated not saying anything; if Starscream wanted her to talk, he'd have to pull the words from her very voice-box.

_Then again, he wants me to say my piece on what I know of the Autobots..._

_"Be careful, Serenade,"_  Blister breathed.

Serenade let out a bitter laugh.

"Fine, Starscream. I'll humor you. You want to know what I know about the Autobots? Well, here it is. I know they're a bunch of sickeningly sentimental, incompetent warmongers led by an even more incompetent Prime, and the conflict they helped to start led to the destruction of Cybertron. So, they're essentially the same as you Decepticons, except," she then snickered, "the fumes from  _their_ scum-covered pedes never came close to clogging up my intake valves."

In spite of the Energon-prod once again striking her breastplate, Serenade continued to giggle at her little joke.

_Two can play at the personal insult game - "delightfully witty comebacks" indeed._

"I  _won't_ ask again," Starscream ground out, his heel once again digging into the topmost scar across Serenade's helm. "You are the only survivor of that derelict Autobot refugee ship; there's no one else who can spare you from me. So, tell me what I want to know, or this situation will become all the worse for you."

Serenade felt her torturer shift, and seconds later a blazing pain erupted in her left wing-joint. The pain only intensified as Starscream wriggled his claws around in the wounds, and his plaything screamed. Off to the side, Blister cried out, but she could do nothing to aid her younger sibling. Her image began to waver in Serenade's good optic as the agony continued, but Starscream removed his talons before the green Seeker completely lost the ability to see.

"That was merely a taste of the suffering I have planned for you, should you choose to continue mocking me." There was a smile in the Decepticon's voice again. "I don't know if  _you_ know this, but I am, in fact, capable of being merciful, unlike some of my colleagues who might be sent in later. Just give me the information I ask for, and this entire episode of ours will end - I will take my Energon-prod and be on my merry way."

Starscream sounded sincere, but Serenade didn't fall for that facade in the least. She'd seen his true colors long ago.

_Even if he really did stand by his words and leave once I answered his questions - though my answers would all be lies - Starscream will come back if only to exercise his sadism just because he_ can _._

_On her back, pinned..._

_Wing, arms, and legs were all broken..._

_Something that would seem light bore down upon her with a terrible weight..._

_She thought she could hear Blister wailing in the distance..._

Quickly, Serenade shook herself from the memory and returned to the present. She then took the time to let the pain from her breastplate, wing, and scars wash through her, and this gave her the strength to fill herself with defiance.

_No. I have survived up to this point with greater wounds than this, and it'll take_ much  _more than Starscream to break me._

The defiance that Serenade felt drifted into her voice when she spoke again.

"Oh, this 'episode of ours' will definitely end, Starscream - when I have my servos around your accursed spark and hold the very fate of your existence in my grasp. Then, we'll see who is capable of inflicting the greatest suffering. So, come at me with the very worst in your arsenal - I  _will_ survive it, and you will rue the cycle in which you heard my name."

Starscream growled, but this sound soon turned into a dark laugh.

"Fine, then. We'll do this  _your_ way."

With a smirk, Starscream thrust the Energon-prod into the open wounds on Serenade's wing-joint, and Serenade screamed.

__


	3. SI, Ch2 - The Fallen Sky

**Note: Long passages in italics denote flashbacks.**

0000

When he emerged from his latest recharge cycle, Optimus  _knew_ something was wrong. He did not have the ability to tell exactly what it was off the top of his helm, but he could not shake the awful sense of foreboding that loomed over him. Combined with the fact that he lay prone and helpless in some cavern in which Smokescreen had squirreled him away, the feeling grew maddening.

What if some poor soul - one of his own team, perhaps - was about to encounter a danger that they could not overcome because he did not have the strength to rise?

Optimus made himself intake deeply, although it hurt to do so. There was simply no use in working himself up over circumstances that could not be helped. His injuries were too severe for any sort of attempt at heroics; that much was pure fact, and without Ratchet and/or any medical facility at hand, the Autobots and the humans would have to face their dangers without him.

Still...

_No,_ Optimus thought firmly.  _I will not allow myself to think in such a manner. My comrades are more than capable of handling themselves; I must give them all of the faith I know they have earned. They will meet whatever demons seek to hinder them, and they will triumph. I know that not a single one of them will settle for any less._

The Prime smiled to himself when he mulled over the raw stubbornness and strength of will each member of his team - including the children, June, and Agent Fowler - possessed. If it was one thing they had at their disposal that the Decepticons did not, it was the undying drive to succeed and succeed  _together_. No matter how hopeless the odds seemed, his team would forge ahead as one with the guidance of Primus, make their own options, and protect the worlds and families which they held so dear.

Indeed. The wills of the Autobots and the people of Earth gave them the power to shape their own destinies.

It was spark-rending to know that, excluding immediate intervention by Primus Himself, the leader of the Autobots was unlikely to stand with them at the end.

Optimus felt it in his core: the slowly creeping darkness born from his wounds that would take him to the All-Spark - away from the Earth, Cybertron, and those he considered his own kin. Truly, part of him wept at the thought. While he understood that everything in the universe eventually ceased to be, Optimus knew that he would never be completely ready to leave behind those he cherished.

But he could not content himself by dwelling on death and sorrow. Instead, Optimus tried to imagine the wonder and glory of the time when he would rejoin the very force that gave him life. Before he could vanish into the darkness at the end of existence, the spark of Primus Himself would rekindle the former Prime's optics with the light that had shone since the beginning of the universe. Though Optimus' own spark would be a flicker before such a mighty Presence, he would be brought into the fold of the  _Lord of All That is Good_  with the dignified regard of the noblest king and the warmth and gentleness of a sire cradling his long-lost sparkling. He would then melt away into the all-encompassing essence of his life-giver and, finally complete, shine alongside the souls of his friends and predecessors. Free of pain, worry, and loss, he would drift forever amidst this new and everlasting sea of stars...

So lost and comforted did Optimus become in his vision that he did not notice when Smokescreen returned from his latest patrol.

"Optimus! Are you awake? I'm sorry if I woke you, but something terrible has happened!"

The tone of the Elite Guard's voice jolted Optimus out of his thoughts. His frame trembling, Smokescreen appeared incredibly distressed as he gesticulated with wild abandon.

"There-there was a ship - one of  _our_ refugee ships - and it was f-falling from the sky! It w-was on fire and leaving a huge smoke trail and -!"

The feeling of foreboding returned in full-force, and Optimus raised a servo to stop Smokescreen from rambling. The latter, though still in a state of excitement, immediately fell silent.

Calmly, the Prime said, "As the humans would say...take a deep breath, Smokescreen. Sort out your thoughts, and then...give me your report."

It took more energy than Optimus wanted to admit in order to finish speaking. By the final word, both his intake valves and most of his torso throbbed with pain.

"Sir," Smokescreen said, giving Optimus a smart salute.

0000

_From behind an outcropping of large, compact boulders, Smokescreen spied on the salvage operation being performed on the smoldering ruins of Outpost Omega-1. He watched in silence as Decepticon drones traveled throughout the mess of burnt rock and molten metal and also communed back and forth from Darkmount, delivering their findings to Megatron. For the past hour or so, not much more had gone on than that, and Smokescreen was becoming impatient for some action._

What I wouldn't give for an all-or-nothing ambush by the rest of the team...

_Suddenly, Smokescreen's audio receptors tuned in to the sound of something huge exploding up above. The Vehicons heard it, too, and almost in sync with the hidden Autobot, they paused whatever they were doing and turned their helms skyward. All the bots present were greeted with the sight of a large, orange and yellow fireball plummeting from the upper atmosphere, leaving a trail of thick, pitch-black smoke in its wake._

_As Smokescreen examined the fireball more closely with his sensors, he let out a small gasp when he detected a failing, unshielded distress signal emanating from it. The fireball was really a crashing ship - an Autobot_ _**refugee** _ _ship! And its current trajectory would put it down into a mesa only a couple of minutes from Omega-1!_

Scrap!

_The young Autobot, helpless to provide aid, could only watch in horror as the fireball streaked towards the earth. While gazing on, his sensors registered an unaffiliated Cybertronian life-signal, one that separated itself from that of the ship and began flying off - it was a Seeker, he realized - and he almost cried out._

A survivor! Wait!

_But whoever-it-was soon flew out of Smokescreen's sensory range, though not before he saw Seeker troops soar out from Darkmount after the survivor's trail._

_Only seconds afterwards, the burning ship slammed down into the unforgiving ground of Nevada in a burst of white, orange, and yellow light. Smokescreen first felt the shockwave generated from the impact, and then the echoing boom came two seconds later._

_After running a second and third check, Smokescreen could not determine if anyone else had managed to escape or survive the crash. Not from this distance._

By the All-Spark, no...

_The former Elite Guardsman forced himself to remain still and hidden as a portion of the Vehicon troopers immediately began to scramble. They resembled a horde of Scraplings alerted to a meal, quickly forming squad units and either driving or flying towards the crash site._

They won't be leaving  _me_ behind!

_Making sure that his life-signal was still masked, Smokescreen transformed and headed for the fallen ship. He decided to take a somewhat roundabout route running through some sheltered canyons that sat between a long line of mesas. Hopefully, going this way would keep him out of sight and sound until he reached the crash site._

0000

Smokescreen paused in order to catch his breath, and during that time, Optimus took a moment to pray for the victims of the crash. In his mind, he began to relive the memories of the exodus from Cybertron, when those onboard the Ark watched as the ships carrying their comrades and loved ones were shot down, one by one, by the Decepticons. It was a miracle in and of itself - possibly made by the sacrifices of those ships - that the Ark managed to escape without much damage. However, Optimus, both then and now, found his relief snuffed by the images of burning, shattering, and death that were permanently etched into his processor.

He then sent a small prayer of thanks to Alpha Trion for keeping Smokescreen secluded in the Hall of Records and away from the front lines.

_Smokescreen is most fortunate indeed to have not been a part of that wretched escape._

Shortly thereafter, the younger bot returned to his report.

/

_Fortunately, getting close to the site was easier than Smokescreen anticipated. The mesa - or, rather, the former mesa - had been completely wrecked by the impact of the ship; thousands of pounds of rubble peppered the landscape for at least a half-mile radius around the crash. Dashing from boulder to boulder, and making liberal use of the Phase-Shifter, Smokescreen found a sheltered refuge less than twenty feet away from where the Vehicons inspected the wreckage._

_Due to the amount of debris that covered the ship, the Vehicons hadn't yet been able to get particularly deep in their investigations. However, Smokescreen overheard orders go out to Darkmount for excavating equipment, so he knew it wouldn't be long before the troopers dug into their newest prize. Keeping that knowledge in mind, Smokescreen ran his most cursory scan over the bulk of the wreck._

_In the middle of the scan, the young bot became increasingly aware of a strange frequency running in and out of his sensory array. Diverting more of his attention to the persisting noise, he realized that it wasn't a simple radio-pulse. It had a kind of...rhythm...and, to Smokescreen's surprise, an actual_ _**tune** _ _. The "frequency" was actually music - and not just music, but a remix of an old, Cybertronian hymn that nearly vanished during Cybertron's Golden Age but came back into popularity during the war: "We Pledge Our Sparks and Scatter."_

/

When Smokescreen said the name of the hymn, Optimus would have jumped to his pedes if he possessed the strength. Instead, he asked, "Are you sure that is what you heard?"

Smokescreen met Optimus' optics with an un-breaking stare.

"Yes, sir. Without a doubt."

/

_Smokescreen was momentarily struck dumb as he listened to the staccato, electronic beat of the ancient hymn. It had been ages since he'd heard this particular rendition of "We Pledge Our Sparks and Scatter," but not because the song as a whole had nearly been forgotten by all of Cybertron._

_The rendition he listened to now was actually a top-secret signature code used by a certain group of elite Autobot spies. It took the place of their registered life-signals and masked their identities. Formed by Alpha Trion not long before the downward spiral of the war, these spies were sleeper agents carefully planted in Decepticon territories, bases, and squad units. It was through them that most of the valuable intel on the Decepticons originated, and they were part of the reason Megatron did not win the war outright._

_However, the spies had no official name and did not have listings on any record that could be accessed by the public. More than ninety-five percent of the Autobot forces didn't even know these particular bots existed - even many of the officers had no idea. Only Optimus Prime, Alpha Trion, and certain individuals deemed necessary by the former two leaders were aware of these spies. In fact, the sole reason Smokescreen recognized the rendition was because he'd personally served with Alpha Trion - he'd been sequestered with the elderly mech and his business for almost all of the war._

_The old record-keeper had made Smokescreen swear his own spark would be forfeit if he ever revealed the spies' presence to_ _**anyone** _ _._

If there was ever a time to make good on that promise, it's now.

_The crew with the excavating equipment hadn't appeared yet, so Smokescreen figured that he had a bit of time to plan out his next move. Using his sensory array, he tried to find the frequency's exact point of origin within the wreck. He sighed in relief when the signal seemed to come from a few yards away from the crashed ship - under a pile of medium-sized boulders, he thought - and not directly in or under it. That made his job_ much  _easier, for he wouldn't have to somehow sneak past the ring of Vehicons that now circled the main bulk of the wreck._

I guess someone else managed to abandon ship after all.  _Then, Smokescreen was suddenly perplexed._ Though, how did they manage to land within all this rubble  _and_ still be alive? Did they simply abandon ship too late? Was their armor strong enough to protect them? How, though...?

_Unfortunately, his thoughts were cut short when he heard the return call for the excavation tools._

_Without missing another beat, Smokescreen reactivated the Phase-Shifter and made his way towards the frequency source. He put all of his training as an Elite Guardsman to work, sneaking quietly around the ring of anticipative Vehicons. A couple of times, he thought one of the troopers had caught a glimpse of him, and he would immediately hunker down and wait, biding his time until he felt sure the threat had passed. To his pleasure, none of the Vehicons seemed to become aware of his presence, and Smokescreen soon found himself safely concealed behind the pile of rocks that covered the spy. He sent silent thanks to Primus for the Phase-Shifter, and after that small pause, he walked through the boulders in order to get a visual on his target and assess any injuries._

_It became apparent to the young bot how the spy survived the crash. Whoever it was, he or she was encased in an Aerial Evacuation Armor Unit, an ultra-durable suit with its own life-support system. The suits derived from the same line of development that ended in the creation of the Apex Armor, and many Autobot ships, especially those meant for carrying refugees, came standard with them. Bots within the suits could survive traumatic events such as falls from incredible heights, low- to mid-grade explosions, and heat up to smelter-level temperatures with nary a scratch._

He's lucky he wasn't still in the ship when it hit the ground. After a while,  _that_ might've been more than the suit could've handled.

_Smokescreen soon became frustrated, though. Like the Apex Armor, the AEAU was incredibly heavy when not in its compact form - it took enormous effort for any bot not within a functioning suit to move it with their own strength. And the young bot couldn't simply deactivate the thing; the Vehicons would sense the power surge it would give off (if they didn't hear the sound of the suit returning to hand-held-size first.) He would have to pull the spy free with the Phase-Shifter and leave the armor behind. Hopefully, he would be able to return before the Decepticons discovered and scavenged it._

_Reaching into the suit, Smokescreen carefully tugged the crash victim free. It was an uninjured, light purple mech who had no insignia and little in the way of body-armor aside from the AEAU. He had just enough to decently cover his protoform, but, other than that, he was not what Smokescreen would deem battle-worthy. Heck; Starscream and Knock Out had more defensive plating than this mech, and they rarely tried to get in the way of combat._

Then again, I guess a spy would rather blend into the background of a fight and not look like he was ready to pick one.

_Now, Smokescreen's frustration began to dissipate. Free of the armor, the bot was much less difficult to carry - easier than Optimus; that was for sure. As quietly as possible, the former Elite Guardsman hefted the limp spy across his shoulders._

_"Now, to get you back to Optimus," Smokescreen whispered._

_The Vehicon troopers appeared with the excavation tools not long after the two bots had snuck away into the canyons._

0000

"You...have our comrade...with you?" Optimus asked, surprised. Now, his voice was again beginning to betray his waning strength.

Smokescreen nodded.

"Yes. We managed to get away from the wreck without any trouble, and he actually regained consciousness not long before we got here."

Optimus watched with as much alertness as he could muster as Smokescreen phased out of the cave and returned seconds later with the purple mech in tow. He was a bit wobbly on his pedes - no doubt still suffering from the crash - but there were no injuries visible on him.

The stranger met Optimus' optics but then, just as quickly, turned away.

"Optimus Prime, sir," he said, his voice hushed. "It's an honor - one too great for someone of my station."

Optimus made a slight waving motion with a servo.

"I thank you, but there is...no need...for extensive salutations. Please, state your...full rank and...designation...for propriety's sake."

The mech flinched at the order and still did not look Optimus in the optics, but he gave a small salute and obeyed.

"As I was born from the All-Spark, my original designation was Railgun - former Iacon laborer. However, as I was re-designated by the high presence of Alpha Trion, I am, in your knowledge, Cipher - former espionage specialist," his voice suddenly hitched, "serving the Autobot cause. In the name of Primus, I pledge my spark and will scatter at your word."

Smokescreen gave a questioning look to the strangely meek mech, and Optimus mentally mirrored the expression. Nevertheless, he did not comment on the behavior and continued.

"Thank you, Cipher. We must...thank Primus that you reached Earth...and were rescued from the remains of your ship. There are...no others?"

Cipher bowed his helm, his optics squeezed shut. Smokescreen turned back to Optimus.

"According to my scanners, no other life-signals were in the wreck. As far as I can tell, Cipher and that unknown Seeker were the only two that managed to survive."

Cipher's helm whipped around to his rescuer, optics wide with shock.

"A Seeker managed to get away? Did you manage to catch what they looked like?"

Smokescreen seemed momentarily taken aback by the outburst, but he answered in turn.

"No. I was too far away to see them well. All I know is that they managed to get free from the ship, and then some of Megatron's thugs came out of Darkmount and went after them. I wasn't in a position to do any more."

Cipher's face became despairing, and he turned back to look at the floor of the cave.

"Oh. I was hoping..."

Then, almost without warning, coolant began to seep from Cipher's optics. Servos clenched at his side, he fell to his knees and began to weep, his sobs that of a broken mech - one who had lost everything. Smokescreen put one servo on Cipher's left rotator-cup, but the purple mech did not respond.

Optimus felt helpless. Then he heard Cipher mumble something.

"This is all my fault. Everything is all my fault."

Smokescreen heard him, too.

"What's all your fault? What are you talking about?"

Quietly, Cipher replied:

"It's because of my failure that Megatron is winning. It's my fault that Cybertron is dead."


	4. Doctor in the House

_**TFP** _ **: Terminus, Vol. I - Ghosts**

**\- Chapter 3: Doctor in the House -**

**(Disclaimer: I do not own** _**TFP** _ **. It's one of my life's greatest tragedies. Bummer.)**

***Glossary**

**\- "Vorn": the Cybertronian equivalent of about eighty-three Earth years.**

0000

Serenade struggled to remain conscious. Her entire frame throbbed with agony; there were scant few parts of her that  _didn't_ hurt, and her wings and face gave her the most trouble, for the pain was still severe enough that she couldn't ignore it. Giving special attention to where her left optic used to be, Starscream had reopened her scars by leisurely dragging his talons through them. He also "worked" on almost all the sensitive spots on her wings, and without medical attention, the lacerations would soon be beyond repair.

Serenade was also covered in dried energon, and the way it seeped into her armor and caked there made her itch. But, thanks to the manacles and energy chains that restrained her servos, there was little in the way of scratching. The gunk had also dribbled into her right optic, and she needed to blink it frequently in order to keep her sight clear.

On her next blink, she felt a wave of dizziness wash through her processor. She'd lost quite a bit of energon during and after the torture session, and, befitting his nature, Starscream had yet to send someone to close up her leaking wounds. At the moment, Serenade wasn't too close to death's door. Her nano-repair system managed to scab over the most minute of the punctures and slashes, but the places that Starscream gave extra application to - her wings and face-plate - were torn too deeply for her body's ability to heal. Given enough time, the possibility of bleeding out became much greater.

_Frag you, Starscream. Frag you up and down the entire Sea of Rust. I hope Unicron has a special place saved for you in the Pit..._

Blister came into Serenade's field of vision.

_"Try and hang on, Serenade. You'll be all right."_

Serenade scoffed.

"Of course I will. I'm not going to die he - "

A round of painful hacking cut off Serenade's voice, and she doubled over. The coughing aggravated all of the pains in her frame, and the bitter taste of half-processed energon covered her glossa. After a couple of seconds, Blister leaned over Serenade to gently place one white servo over her rotator-cup. However, the younger sister didn't feel the touch.

The door to the cell opened, and Serenade saw a red bot enter and stop just inside.

"Well, you're not the  _worst_  thing Starscream's ever left in here for me, but you certainly aren't a sight for sore optics."

It was a mech, and he had a pretentious lilt to his voice that Serenade found irksome. She couldn't make a smart reply, though, for she was still coughing.

The stranger pulled up a data pad and sifted through its display with one digit. He mumbled to himself the entire time - to the point where Serenade was tempted to try and snap at him to  _get on with it_  - but the coughing spell weakened her intake valves too much.

"Mmmmm, okay. Let's get this over with," he said. "If I don't get your prepping done in time for the rest of Starscream's schedule, he'll scratch my finish, and then I'll be  _decidedly_ put out."

After stowing the data pad away, he hefted a container from over his shoulder and set it on the floor. He then opened it and sifted through its contents, eventually retrieving what looked to be a scanner, an oiled rag, and some other devices that looked either sharp or unassuming.

 _Why do I not care for either of those appearances?_ _Though, I guess this means he's my medic - sent to pretty me up before my next torture session begins._ Serenade snorted.  _It's about fragging time_.

At Serenade's side, Blister perked up.

_"I know him, Serenade."_

Serenade was momentarily surprised.  _How'd she come to "know" a Decepticon other than Starscream?_

"Okay. Who is he?" she croaked.

The mech turned, walked over to Serenade, kneeled, and then laid out all his tools except for the scanner and the rag.

" _He_  is Knock Out, Megatron's head medic," he answered. He moved the scanner over Serenade's frame, and the little machine emitted a few differently-pitched beeps. "And, as the medic, my diagnosis is that Starscream called me down here at a fairly good time for you. I can still patch you up enough so that  _Herr Kommandant_ should be satisfied with your condition before continuing his...tender ministrations."

Serenade laughed at that last part.

"'Tender?' Is that only compared to some, or do you," she hawked up more energon, "really believe that?"

Knock Out sneered in disgust and flicked at a droplet that landed on his right knee-joint. He kept flicking until the thing was completely gone.

"Do you  _mind_? I just had myself buffed, and I am  _not_ going to be very appreciative at a messy patient. As for your question, I know from personal experience that things could be  _much_ worse for you. You haven't reached the point when Shockwave psychically dissects you yet - or, even better, the point when Megatron decides it's his turn.  _Then_  you'll be...how do the humans put it...? Ah, right: S.O.L."

Serenade grimaced.  _Somehow, I feel like I don't need to ask what "S.O.L." means._

Though she would've liked to meet Megatron on the basis of exchanging a few... _choice_  words with him, a part of Serenade - a greater part than she would've admitted - quaked in fear at the prospects of being on the receiving end of the Decepticon Warlord's wrath. She and Blister had seen clips of him as a gladiator and on various battlefields during the war; anyone who  _didn't_ feel fear at his incredible cunning and brutality was either a sorry fool or one of the Thirteen Primes.

Of course, her fear did not stymie the desire to engineer his demise.

 _And, boy, will I_ ever _..._

"Anyway," Knock Out continued, "I'm going to clean that energon off of you first - the stuff will only get in the way of closing up your injuries. Of course, a cursory wipe-down is hardly enough for any mech with taste to look at you appraisingly - you look like you had a bad run-in with a small meteor field...and possibly a sander. And those scars! They're repugnant, I tell you - absolutely repugnant. I  _shudder_ at the mere sight of them!"

If Serenade could move properly, she would've punched him in his smug, prim face-plate.

_"Don't let him get to you, Serenade; he has this attitude with almost everybody."_

"No, really? I wouldn't have guessed."

"Oh, yes, really," Knock Out replied. "If you weren't only here for information purposes, I'd be moved out of sheer pity to at least  _attempt_ to make you look halfway-decent."

The urge to just crack this arrogant mech's denta was quite tempting indeed...

 _"Stay on his good side, Serenade,"_ said Blister.  _"He may not have said so, but Knock Out can make you just as miserable as Starscream or Shockwave. Decepticon medics are not to be trifled with. Besides,"_  she whispered,  _"he's one of the few Decepticons that you can persuade to be decent."_

"I'll keep that for future reference," Serenade muttered. Before Knock Out had the chance to let another insult fly, though, she cut him off with, "If you're trying to shame me because of how I look, Knock Out, you're a few vorns late to the party - actually, you're several vorns late. That starship took off long ago; you may as well save your breath and find a new batch of insults to trade with me."

Beginning to wipe down Serenade with the oil-rag, Knock Out rolled his optics.

"Oh, fine; if you insist. For the record, though, you're a far better patient than Starscream. All insults aside, he'd have already started micromanaging my work - who's the medic here, I might ask - and begun ordering me around like I'm his personal servant. What do I look like: a Vehicon trooper? Primus, I should hope not. Since no one else does, I make it a personal point to be the most well-groomed Decepticon on this ship."

Serenade allowed herself a little smirk at the medic's preening.

"Aren't you decorated a bit  _festively_ for a Vehicon?" she queried. "That bright red paint-job and the fancy armor make you look more like a target than a trooper."

Knock Out harrumphed. "For your information, Miss Fashion-Challenged, I happen to know that I look  _fantastic_  in this particular shade of red. And if I didn't already know intrinsically, patients and enemies  _both_  have marveled over me - on numerous occasions, may I add. And besides, I can outfight and outrun any of the Autobots when I'm in the mood, so your argument is automatically invalid."

Serenade intended to challenge the credence of those statements, but she felt Knock Out moving down to the parts of her wings with the most damage, so she kept quiet and braced herself. He found his way to where Starscream had dug in his talons and twisted them through the sensitive wiring. Pain flared through the wounds as the rag touched them, and Serenade bit back a hiss. Soon, though, Knock Out moved on to her rotator-cups and back, which weren't nearly as bad-off.

"Huh. It seems you handle pain better than Starscream, too," he mused. "I try to fix up the slightest dent on his wings and he's all on my case about how 'Seekers are sensitive' and that I should re-take my medical evaluations in order to retain my license. Humph. I sometimes wonder why I just don't sedate him for every little check-up, but then I remember that he'd probably accuse me of planning to assassinate him."

"Do you mean to say that you don't? I assumed that everyone who knew Starscream had those sorts of urges."

Knock Out actually laughed a little. He was now wiping the rag over the back of Serenade's knee-joints.

"It's hard to imagine otherwise, isn't it? You're right, though; he's sorely tempted me more than once. But then I'd have to fill his place as Second-in-Command of the Decepticons, and seeing how Starscream is always at risk of a beating in that position, I'd much rather stay relegated to the med-lab until Megatron calls for me."

Serenade let out an understanding "huh." If it were her in Knock Out's place, she'd also want to stay out of Megatron's line of sight as much as possible.

 _...Wait. Why aren't I biting this mech's head off? He's a Decepticon, for crying out loud, and the only reason for him being in the cell is to primp me up for Starscream's subsequent visit! How come I'm being so fragging_ nice _?_

Then again, the aftermath of her interrogation had drained a lot of Serenade's energy, and that meant she had less to draw on to be particularly vicious. Starscream knew his torture techniques - he made sure she was thoroughly exhausted, even after she tried her fragging best to keep fighting.

_May Primus curse his blackened spark..._

She felt a little better now that some of the dried energon had been removed, but that comfort wasn't enough to make her put up another fight. Also, Blister's warning about Decepticon medics had made a particular impact in Serenade's processor - one look at Knock Out's assortment of tools only reinforced the idea.

_Considering my current state, picking a fight with this mech might not be a great idea right now. I need to save all my energy to put up with Starscream anyway._

Continuing to dwell on her treatment of the medic, Serenade came to grasp that there was one more reason she didn't wish to clash with him. To her chagrin, she realized that, on some level, she actually  _liked_ Knock Out a little. The fact that he wasn't Starscream or Megatron definitely helped his case, but that wasn't the main reason. Listening to him talk -  _how_ he talked - actually turned out rather nice; he had a refreshing, if rude, sense of humor, and the haughty inflection he put into his voice became less irritating after a while. Given the option of enduring Starscream's slimy, biting rasp instead, Serenade would've chosen to listen to Knock Out any day.

A bit of errant positivity pulsed through her processor and spark. Looking at Blister, she saw her sister smiling slightly...and was there a purple flicker over her left wing? But the flicker disappeared almost as soon as it caught Serenade's notice.

 _The excitement of all this torture stuff must be getting to me. Frag it all if I really am_ that _loopy right now..._

Knock Out now finished with Serenade's leg-struts, giving the heels of her pedes one last towel-down before moving to her helm. As the rag lowered towards the blind side of her face, she flinched away, but he caught her with his free servo and held her still. This time, Serenade let out a full cry when the rag touched her.

When Serenade had first received the marks, almost a whole quintun passed before she found a medic willing to patch her up. In the meantime, she stuffed the gashes with strips torn from a thermal blanket in order to try and slow the bleeding. An infection set in quickly, and this only made the situation worse. Serenade was suffering from pain, fever, and exhaustion by the time she found a medic willing to help her, all but collapsing into her arms without even bothering to try and haggle the cost.

Fortunately, the medic was more or less worth the price. She sterilized the infection, closed the gashes, and provided Serenade with enough energon to get her back on her pedes. However, the damage to Serenade's face-plate had already been done. Her left optic was beyond repair or replacement, and the circuitry around the wound had deteriorated to the point where it would never heal properly without major reconstructive surgery...

While Serenade was lost in her memories, Knock Out cleaned away the last of the energon. However, before he applied any sterilizing salve or began work with his welding torch, he did a slight double-take and peered at his patient's face.

"You know, behind those scars, you have a kind of familiar look about you. Strange; I've had a lot of bots walk in and out of my labs, but I'm pretty sure we've never met before."

Serenade jolted out of her mind and looked at Knock Out.

"We haven't. I'd have remembered a mech as flamboyant as you the moment you walked in here."

Knock Out scoffed. "I'll take that as a compliment." He then shrugged. "Oh, well; it doesn't really matter, I suppose. Starscream will have his fill of you soon enough and you'll be scrapped immediately afterwards. I'm only the medic who has no real business with you - there's no reason for us to get too personal with one another."

"You'll find that I'm not so easy to scrap, especially for a mech like Starscream," Serenade told him, but she then settled and let him get back to work.

 _"Ask him about me."_ It was Blister.

"Why?"

"'Why' what?" Knock Out questioned with a touch of irritation.

_"I know him. Ask him about me."_

"How do you know him?" Serenade asked Blister. Suddenly, the white femme had become insistent, and her younger sister was now genuinely curious.

Vaguely, Serenade heard Knock Out, clearly perplexed, say, "What are you talking about?"

However, before either of them could say anything more, there was a knock on the door of the cell followed by a voice over the intercom.

_"Knock Out, sir."_

The medic grumbled, but answered with, "Yes, what is it?"

 _"I've been sent by Commander Starscream_.  _He wants to know how your work is commencing, sir."_

"Tell him that I'll be done soon. He won't have to wait for long."

_"Understood, sir."_

Whoever it was walked away, and Knock Out let off an annoyed growl. Then, he turned back to work on Serenade.

"It seems someone's a bit impatient. Tch. Looks like I'm more pressed for time than I thought. I need to finish here so  _Herr Kommandant_ won't take his boredom out on  _both_ of us, so be quiet and let me concentrate. I don't need him clawing up my paintjob simply because I got chatty."

Serenade was about to protest, but Knock Out pinched a wire on her neck and temporarily shut off her voice-box.

0000

**NOTE: Yes, I know Serenade kind of acted OOC in this chapter, but bear with me. It might not be what you think...**


	5. Between Bots

**_TFP_ : Terminus, Vol. I - Ghosts**

**\- Chapter 4: Between Bots -**

**(Disclaimer: If you don't know it by now, you have four previous chapters that can give you a clue.)**

**NOTE AS OF 1/8/2014: Due to the nature of many concrit reviews, TeamTFPro gave this chapter a major rehash concerning its lack of action and huge reliance upon too unrealistic coincidences. References to these changes will also soon appear in future chapters.**

***Glossary**

**\- "Chassis": A Cybertronian's chest/pectoral area where the intake systems are found**

**\- "Purging": The Cybertronian equivalent of vomiting and/or coughing up fluid**

**\- "Petro-Rabbit": a completely canon animal that's essentially a Cybertronian-style rabbit**

0000

For the second time in his life, Smokescreen found himself onboard the  _Nemesis_ , and - again - actually getting onboard proved much more difficult than sneaking around the passageways. The former Elite Guardsman gave another round of silent thanks to Primus for the Phase-Shifter as he crept through a wall and into another empty hallway.

_Seriously, are all of the guards trapped in the Shadow Zone or something? There's no one around._

It was creepy how desolate the  _Nemesis_ appeared, and the dim, somewhat purple lighting that left thick shadows didn't help at all. Since boarding the ship, Smokescreen saw barely any Vehicon troopers, much less any of the Decepticon officers. He'd nearly walked into one Vehicon sentry while rounding a corner, but since then, there'd been no one else. The conspicuous  _emptiness_ of the ship worried him the more he crept around.

_Then again, now that Megatron moved his base of operations into Darkmount, I guess it makes sense that there'd be few bots around – especially if he's also hunting down Bumblebee, Arcee, and the others. Knowing him, the guards that_ are  _onboard the_ Nemesis  _will be concentrated at the bridge, the energon storage room, and the engine room – none of the places I need to break into. Still, you'd think that even the leanest skeleton crew would leave more evidence of being around..._

The Autobot looked over both rotator-cups, making absolutely sure that nobody lurked in the murky light. No; no bot was to be seen. Was he really so lucky that he hadn't phased into  _someone's_ view yet, or was he, in truth, being silently watched from someplace that he couldn't see?

_That would be Soundwave's MO for sure; though, I'd think that I would've been ambushed by now if that were the case. He's not the kind of bot to leave an intruder alone for this long._

Smokescreen shuddered. "Gah, this is getting  _way_ too creepy…"

After checking again for any threats, Smokescreen phased through another wall and peeked out of the other side. This time, his caution paid off, for a pair of Vehicons stood before the entrance to a room that connected to the hall he would have stepped in. Quickly, he ducked back into hiding and kept still, hoping they hadn't seen him. Fortunately, the guards didn't strike up an alarm.

_I'm so glad that I didn't bring Cipher with me._

Smokescreen's thoughts drifted back to the cave, where Optimus' condition continued to worsen. Now, his bouts of consciousness came in short-lived bursts - a few minutes at the most - and he could barely speak more than a couple of words anymore. Also, whenever the Prime opened his optics, he seemed...distant, somehow - like only his frame was in the cave while he himself was somewhere else - and he would, at times, start at his companions' voices.

Smokescreen didn't bother to try and encourage Optimus to recognize either him or Cipher anymore.

So, when Optimus, in one of his increasingly rare bouts of awareness, implored the young bot to retrieve the Forge of Solus Prime, Smokescreen all but leapt at the chance. In his processor, he imagined his Prime being revived by the holy relic, ready to emerge from his resting place and go beat the ever-loving coolant out of the Decepticons. He was crushed when rebuilding the Omega Lock became the primary goal of the search, but, nevertheless, he supported the mission all the way.

_I'll leap into a smelter before letting anybody keep me from getting the Forge._

His thoughts running parallel to those of Smokescreen's, Cipher did not hesitate to volunteer and then insist on offering his help.

0000

_"Please, Cipher. I already said no deal!"_

_Smokescreen tried not to glare at his comrade, for this chance to gain a spot of hope in the face of despair thrilled them both. They each had Optimus' best interests at heart and wanted to fulfill his orders. However, former elite spy or no, there was no way that Cipher was tagging along._

_"There's no time to argue, Smokescreen," Cipher ground out, decidedly less meek than before. "With my experience in espionage, we can navigate the_ Nemesis  _and retrieve the forge much more easily than if you went alone."_

_"If we were going to get information on the way, I would totally agree with you going along, Cipher, but this is an in-and-out operation. I'm going to phase through the_ Nemesis _, get the forge, and then phase right out again. There's no need, and no time, for two of us to go!"_

_"Do you even know how to navigate the_ Nemesis _, or any sort of Decepticon territory for that matter, Elite Guard?"_

_Smokescreen clenched his servos at the tone of Cipher's voice and what he implied, but stayed firm._

_"Actually, I do. I've been on the_ Nemesis  _once already, and while I was there, I escaped from Knock Out's dissection table_ and  _stole two of the Omega Keys right out from under Megatron's nose! I know where I'm going, and the Phase-Shifter will help me make sure that I won't get caught. Bringing someone else along would only slow me down and make keeping out of sight much harder. As a former intelligence officer, you should know that."_

_Cipher stared at Smokescreen icily._

So much for the mild-mannered Iacon laborer.

_"Are you trying to undermine my authority in this situation - ?"_

_Smokescreen cut him off._

_"Oh, no! I am not swallowing any of that pulling-rank scrap - not_ here _\- and I'm not going to keep arguing! Optimus and the others don't have time for this. I wouldn't care if you were wearing the Apex Armor and running on Red Energon; I am going_ alone _, and that's final! Try and follow me, and I'll make sure that you'll be down for the count!"_

_The young bot phased out of the cave and began speeding towards the_ Nemesis  _before Cipher had the chance to respond._

0000

Still inside the wall, Smokescreen sighed irritably.

_I may not be as trained or mature as the other Autobots, but even_ I  _know we didn't need to argue back there. The fate of our whole world – of our whole_ existence _– hangs in the balance, and the oh-so-superior spy wants to_ bicker _?_

Peeking out again, Smokescreen found an empty passage and tip-toed through it. In seconds, the Autobot was within another wall, but he heard the sounds of talking on the other side and stopped. Curious, he decided to listen for a second.

"Gah. I'm so bored. I wish Lord Megatron assigned us to one of the parties scouting for Autobots."

"Don't you mean scouting in the middle of a barren  _desert_ for Autobots? You'd be just as miserable putting up with the grainy air and endless traveling as you are here. At least the ship's clean and quiet."

"At least out there I'd have something to  _do_. I'd take hours of searching and getting dirt in my armor over standing around doing nothing any day. As if the Autobots or the humans are going to try and sneak aboard the  _Nemesis_. I honestly don't know how you  _stand_ being all cooped up in here. Aren't you supposed to be a Seeker-type Vehicon?"

"I am, but I've been working under Lord Megatron as a station guard for much longer than you have. I've seen comrades either be assigned to suicide missions or outright executed for protesting too much, so I make a point of keeping my mouth-plate shut and get over having flight-withdrawals. Besides, I've also thought about it, and being where the action is means you're always much closer to the All-Spark than I'd like to be. Have you even  _tried_ to take count of how many drones have been off-lined by the Autobots, even just the ones who died here on Earth?"

"No; why would I? I'm not worried about death and dying on this or any other world like you are. Serving the Decepticon cause by hunting down those blasted Autobots is what I want to do; death is just an afterthought."

Smokescreen squashed the undeniable urge to throw the Vehicon's words back in his face-plate by ambushing him and his partner through the wall.

_There'll be plenty of time for that later, once I get the Forge._

The other guard seemed to think his partner was as dumb as Smokescreen did.

"Well, you're either very brave, very loyal, or one of the biggest fools I've ever met if that's what you think. Pit - you may even be a combination of all three; our lot is never without enough eager, half-cocked, die-hard loyalists in the ranks."

"Are you saying you aren't loyal to Lord Megatron and the Decepticon fight?"

"Tch. Hardly that. I'm just saying that you shouldn't be so dismissive of the fact that you could die out there, even if it is in the name of the Decepticons. We aren't as well-trained  _or_ as indispensible as the ranking officers."

"Eh, I guess that's true."

While the conversation was incredibly interesting, Smokescreen figured that he'd wasted enough time. It was time to get the Forge. Before he snuck away, however, he found himself momentarily halted by the next snippet of chatter.

"Oh, speaking of officers, did you hear about Commander Starscream's new plaything?"

"That Autobot Seeker refugee? Yeah, I've heard some - mostly that she's loud, obnoxious, has a white-hot hatred for the Commander, and that she nearly bit someone's digit off."

"Yeah. CU11-3N told me he was thinking of applying for reassignment after that. He doesn't want to go near her cell anymore. And ST-3V3 had to get one of his audio-receptors replaced from the same visit."

"Ouch. I bet the Commander is having a time of it."

"I've heard a lot of different things about that, so, who knows?"

At about that time, Smokescreen snuck away, but now his processor was racing for a different reason.

_I wonder if that's the same Seeker I saw flying away from that ship. It has to be! Now Optimus_ has  _to recover: we've got to save that refugee! Optimus is the only one who could plan a successful extraction in the middle of the enemy's base with only me and Cipher to work with. If only we could get in contact with the others..._

Navigating the rest of the  _Nemesis_ proved to be similarly simple. He narrowly avoided another two sets of guards close to the energon storage room, but soon, Smokescreen was safely inside the vault. He stopped to stare for a moment at the stasis pod that held an evil-looking femme, but he wasted no more time when his optics landed on the Forge. Grasping its handle, he pulled it from the energy field that held it suspended and then let out a surprised yelp as its unexpected weight nearly pulled him to the floor. The young bot winced as the relic made a sharpclang that echoed throughout the vault.

_I_ really  _hope nobody heard that..._

Smokescreen waited for the sound of alarms going off, but the  _Nemesis_ remained silent. Taking that as a sign of Primus' good faith, he quickly began figuring out the easiest and safest way of dragging the Forge back to the cave.

_Man. I need to ask Optimus how he wields this thing so easily!_

/

Moments later, after Smokescreen left the  _Nemesis_ and sped through the Nevada desert, he didn't notice that, up in the sky, Laserbeak followed behind him at a discreet distance. It used its stealth and recording equipment to follow its target just beyond seeing range.

Smokescreen had been right; Soundwave, tapped into both Darkmount and the  _Nemesis'_ security systems while also coordinating the Vehicon searchers, watched him through most of his foray inside the Decepticon warship. When the Autobot entered the vault and took hold of the Forge, Soundwave, in his experience with the weapon and how it only worked for a  _Prime_ , allowed it to be taken.

Laserbeak would take care of the rest.

0000

During the time Smokescreen was absent from the cavern, Cipher sat in bitter silence beside the unconscious Optimus Prime. Immediately following his grasp of the Elite Guard's threat, he was overcome with rage and the childish urge to take his anger out on the rocks strewn about on the floor. It took the spy a good few minutes - and a few rocks - to rein himself in and let the worst of the anger fizzle itself out.

Still, the bitterness at his situation did not totally go away.

_I wish I could do_ something _to help. I'm not a Sparkling that would just be completely under everyone's pedes - I have skills that can give the Autobots a boost, too!_

The childish rage flared again, but Cipher took a deep intake and pushed the feeling down. He needed to keep a cool helm, and part of keeping cool included accepting that his temper wasn't really at Smokescreen. The Elite Guard hadn't done anything wrong – aside from blatant insubordination and going AWOL. No; Cipher's real problem was with himself.

_If I hadn't been so careless back then, then I probably wouldn't even be here now. We_ all _might even still be on Cybertron..._

Deep remorse and sadness began to accompany the anger, and Cipher thought back to the last time he ever spoke to his truest and most wonderful companion in all of Cybertron…

0000

_"I wish you weren't going. It's so dangerous outside the walls of Iacon these days, and they want to send you straight into Kaon? That's almost like asking you to commit suicide!"_

_Blister was on the verge of crying, her optics wavering with fresh coolant. It hurt deep with Cipher's spark to see her like this, and he wished that the war would just end so that they could at last have their peace; but unless every Decepticon up and spontaneously combusted before he left, there would be no such luck._

_"I know, and you know that if I could do anything to stay with you in the safety of Iacon, I would. But the orders came from Optimus Prime himself, and that means they're absolute. I've got to go."_

_Cipher tried to keep his voice from wavering, and he thought he did a fair job considering how he felt. Even so, his voice box hitched a couple of times, and he could tell the Blister had heard._

_She bowed her helm and sighed._

_"I know. I know you do. It's just so hard to accept. Kaon is the last place I'd want any sane bot to be, and you're going to be stationed there until someone decides it's time to call you back. You're going to be under the optics of Megatron and his officers - with no guarantee that you'll make it out alive - until Optimus Prime and the Autobots get what they want. And through all that, I'm supposed to wait here, hoping that nothing goes wrong, knowing that you'll be in danger at any given time...and knowing that I won't be able to do anything to help you. You said so yourself: I'm not even meant to know that you're leaving, let alone the reason_ why _. If your superiors found out…" A bit of exasperation tinted her next intake. "Was there really any point in letting me know about all this besides tearing at my spark?"_

_In the next instant, Cipher embraced her, and she cried, coolant trickling from her optics onto his rotator-cup._

" _You know I would never say anything just to make you sad," he said. "In fact, I almost didn't tell you, and not just because this could end with both of us in boiling oil. But…"_

_Now it was Cipher's turn to let the coolant flow._

" _I… I just couldn't_ not  _tell you. To just up and leave, and without saying goodbye… It wouldn't have been fair to you."_

_Blister, still crying, smiled sadly._

" _I know."_

0000

Cipher sighed. How he missed her… How he missed all of his friends he'd left behind during the war, most of whom he would never see again...

The sound of footsteps and a sharp clanging sound made the spy jump. In a second, his right and left arm segments became a blaster and a blade, respectively, and he placed himself before the unconscious Optimus.

"Stop where you are!" Cipher called, brandishing both of his weapons. "Make one more move and I will fire!"

There came an exasperated grunt from within the cave wall.

"Hold your fire, Cipher. It's me."

A second later, Smokescreen phased into the cave, and he dragged what must have been the Forge of Solus Prime behind him. Cipher was momentarily stunned as he stared at the legendary tool; it was more glorious than he expected, and his thoughts drifted to what it would be like to wield the thing.

_A relic of the Thirteen…_

His thoughts came to an end when Smokescreen dropped the Forge with an unceremonious clang.

" _Primus_ , that thing's heavy. Maybe I should've let you come along after all, Cipher."

The Elite Guard let out an ironic chuckle, while Cipher merely frowned. Without replying, he shifted his weapons away and glanced over the younger Autobot's armor.

"Not a scratch on you. I assume the mission went without a hitch."

"Yup." Smokescreen stretched and rolled his rotator-cuffs. "In and out, just like I said. Megatron's split his focus between Darkmount and hunting us down, so the  _Nemesis_ was all but abandoned when I got there. I didn't have any problems at all."

In tandem with the relief he felt at the mission's success, a pang of agitation and jealousy appeared in Cipher's spark.

_Perhaps Smokescreen vexes me a little more than I thought..._

Then, Cipher's vexation grew into a spark of warning.

_That kind of escape shouldn't have been so easy. There's no way Megatron would've left either a relic or his warship under so little guard. Unless..._

He asked, "Are you  _sure_  no one followed you? Absolutely, one hundred percent sure?"

" _Yes_. I didn't see any Vehicon troopers, Soundwave, or Laserbeak on my trail."

Now, Smokescreen's voice held a smidgen of hesitance, and Cipher acted on it.

"You may not have seen or sensed them, but that doesn't mean no one followed you. In my experience, I find it better to be safe than sorry." He held out a servo. "Please lend me the Phase-Shifter; I'm going to look around and keep watch outside."

"Oh, come on, Cipher. Don't jinx us."

Now, Smokescreen sounded decidedly nervous, and, when Cipher's servo didn't withdraw, the younger bot removed the Phase-Shifter from his wrist-cuff and handed it over.

Cipher affixed the tool onto his own wrist-cuff. "I'll be out for a few hours at least. Wait for my signal until then."

He left the cave, working his way up until his helm poked through the ruddy, dust-covered ground of the desert.

What he saw struck fear into his spark.

Cipher didn't have hours - none of the three Autobots did. The  _Nemesis_  loomed in the none-too-distant sky like a malevolent storm cloud, and it was flying towards Cipher, Smokescreen, and Optimus' hiding place.

Feeling fear cracking at his heels, Cipher ducked back underground and bolted into the cave with all the speed of a hunted petro-rabbit.

"We need to go, NOW! Megatron's forces will be on us in moments!"

Smokescreen asked, "What?" but then he quickly ran to Optimus' side and made to heft the Prime up on one shoulder. Cipher, seeing this, almost-leaped to the Forge, gripped its handle, and pulled with all his might.

He couldn't lift it, no matter how hard he tried.

_I don't have the strength or the tools I relied on as a laborer. My frame, as it is now, is too weak to lift something this heavy - drag it maybe, but not lift it._

"Come on, Cipher! Let's  _go_!"

Cipher turned with a despairing look towards Smokescreen, whom he could see was struggling to bear Optimus' bulk.

_We're too laden down. We'll never make it out of here or through the desert in time._

For the second time since coming to Earth, Cipher felt absolutely terrified - for both his life and those of his two comrades here. The sounds of the  _Nemesis'_  approach rumbled and echoed through the ground.

Then, Smokescreen shifted and made a noise of triumph. He began to move towards Cipher, and he said, "Cipher, drag the Forge towards me! I have an idea!"

Somehow, they managed to move themselves and their burdens within touching distance - less than that; they almost formed one big pile.

"Here, sit the Forge in your lap and hold onto it with your leg-struts, and," Smokescreen gestured to himself and Optimus, "hold on to me and Optimus with your servos."

Cipher, confused, followed those directions. The moment he did, Smokescreen twisted the Phase-Shifter on.

Smokescreen took a deep intake and turned to Cipher. "Okay, I need you to think 'down' thoughts - like the down-through-the-ground kind."

"What are you - ?"

Above, the ground shook with cannon fire and other equipment tunneling into it. Unable to withstand such an assault, the roof of the cave began to crumble.

Smokescreen barked, "No time!"

Cipher thought "down", imagining all of them moving through the earth. On his wrist-cuff, the Phase-Shifter activated, and then Cipher yelped and nearly let go of both Smokescreen and Optimus when they all suddenly fell through the cave floor.

The three bots, plus the Forge, fell for almost thirteen nano-kliks - Cipher couldn't measure the distance they fell by any system other than that - and they passed through layers of dirt and rock. Then, without warning, the earth beneath them opened up into a large void. The space echoed with the sound of moving liquid, and Cipher barely heard Smokescreen yell, "Turn it off and kick off me!"

Cipher immediately let go of Smokescreen and Optimus, shut off the Phase-Shifter, and, simultaneously, used all of his might to kick off from Smokescreen's frame. He flew sideways and released the Forge in order to break some of his downward momentum, and then he plunged with a huge splash into what he soon recognized to be a river.

The moment he hit the water, the river rolled him down and along its smooth, stone bottom until he found enough purchase to rise to the surface. A strong, sudden change in the current sent the Phase-Shifter bouncing hard off of some rock just before he managed to anchor himself. When he finally stood to his full height, the surface of the water ran at the level of his torso; the only thing that gave him a bit of trouble at that point was the speed at which the water moved.

With his blue optics giving him some light, Cipher called out, "Smokescreen!" No answer. "Smokescreen, where are you? Are you alright!"

"Over here! We're over here!"

Relieved, Cipher turned to his left, where both Smokescreen's voice and the sudden sound of deep purging came from. With careful effort, he waded through the river and up onto its left bank about twenty paces from where he'd first stood. Once on the bank, he saw the shine of Smokescreen's own optics on a group of stalagmites before seeing the young bot himself. He sat across from Optimus within a space just wide enough to fit the two of them. Cipher decided to stand a bit beyond it.

"Are you two alright?" Cipher asked.

Smokescreen shook his helm. "I'm okay, I think, but that might be because Optimus hit the water first. If we hadn't landed so close to this bank, I wouldn't have had strength for long enough to pull us  _both_ out." He looked down at Optimus. "He just finished purging the majority of the water from his intakes...and I thought I heard something inside of his torso cracking."

Alarmed, Cipher stepped over to Optimus, placed his helm with his right audio receptor down against Optimus' chassis, and listened. Soon, Optimus purged water again, and Cipher frowned when he heard the cracking noise for himself. He listened through the next couple of purges, too.

_I sincerely hope I didn't just hear that noise get worse._

"Injured in the landing, perhaps? Let's just hope that cracking is from something his nano-repair systems can heal." Cipher pulled back into a kneeling position. "I think I know first aid to patch over something like this, but that's only with the right equipment. Most of mine were destroyed in the crash, and just rooting around, hoping to find the right thing to fix, will probably only make things worse."

Cipher said a small prayer to Primus, and Smokescreen let out an aggrieved sigh while leaning back against one large stalagmite.

"Wonderful..."

A moment passed, and then Cipher remembered the Forge, that it was still in the river. He tapped Smokescreen's rotator-cup and said, "Here, I'll need your help retrieving the Forge from the water; I'm not strong enough to pull it out alone."

It took more time and effort than the two Autobots wanted to admit, but, at long last, they managed to drag the relic onto the bank. Afterwards, they sat and rested, listening to the echoing of the river's dull roar, and Cipher kept his audio receptors open for sounds of pursuit in particular. Sometimes, he felt and heard tremors rocking down from above, but both the sound and force were faint.

_If the Decepticons are still digging, they're still a good distance off. Hopefully, they'll give up after not finding anything up there and won't think to come looking for us down here_. He took the Phase-Shifter off and examined it.  _I hope this thing wasn't damaged too badly in the river..._

Into the silence, Smokescreen said, "If it sounds like they're getting close, we'll either move upriver or head deeper down - or go through the walls. We'll have to be careful about where we phase, though; we don't want to end up somewhere we can't remove Optimus or the Forge from. I hope we can even get back to the surface from  _here_ , though." He went quiet for a few moments before asking, "Anyway, we now have the Forge. That's good. So what do we do now?"

Looking to Optimus, Cipher answered, "Well, our orders were to use the Forge to rebuild the Omega Lock, wherever and whatever that is and whenever that will be. So, I guess now we just…wait."

The statement was almost a question. Smokescreen looked at Cipher, who looked back, and an awkward silence filled the cave.

"We just…wait?"

"I believe that's what I said." Though, Cipher had less confidence in that reply than he would care to admit. "Since Optimus doesn't seem to be in the way of giving us further instructions, I don't see how we can do much else."

Smokescreen harrumphed and turned away again, gazing at some spot on the cave floor. He didn't say anything for a while, and Cipher began to drift back into his own thoughts.

_Should we wait, though? I know the orders of a Prime are absolute, and I don't want to disobey, but when…_ if  _Optimus is to become one with the All-Spark soon, who are we to turn to in order to carry out this plan?_

He sighed.

_I suppose we just have to trust that the other Autobots on Earth will find us in time, even if they are scattered across a continent and being hunted by the Decepticons…_

It was then that Cipher came to a single conclusion: successfully carrying out this plan without Optimus Prime was going to take a miracle.

Beside them, the dying leader of the Autobots let out a spark-wrenching groan, and Cipher began another fervent prayer to Primus.

/

"I don't want to wait."

Out of the corner of one optic, Smokescreen saw Cipher turn to him with a questioning look on his face-plate.

"What do you mean?"

Smokescreen continued staring at the ground.

"I know Optimus said that we're only supposed to use the Forge on the Omega Lock, but…there's just so much we're leaving up to chance here. I don't doubt the skills of any of the others, but with the new unity of the Cons and how broken our team is right now, just sitting back and waiting for that one stroke of good luck is  _stupid_!"

"But, what can we do?"

The two bots locked gazes, and Smokescreen caught a glint of half-formed opposition in the spy's optics.

_Looks like he already knows what I'm going to say._

A deep intake came from the Elite Guard before he turned to face Cipher fully, his stance firm and square. After all that thinking on both the  _Nemesis_ and here about Optimus, himself, the others, and the Decepticons' newest prisoner, he was so done with waiting.

"We use the power of the Forge to revive Optimus and get this show on the road. It's time we make our own luck."

…

It took all of ten seconds for the second round of arguing to start.


End file.
